Revival of the Demon King (1)
When Cynthiana appeared, the Imperial Army was in chaos.
But the moment they saw the blood-stained royal flag in her hand, the battlefield fell silent.
Because that flag was not just in the Imperial Army's textbooks—it was the very embodiment of the nightmare every citizen had heard about from their parents.
Never face her head-on. Never raise your sword against her. That woman has slain all humans in a single strike.
Even the heroes the Empire boasted of couldn’t last a single bout against her. Her swift strikes shattered shields and armor alike. Her kicks would cleave bodies clean in half.
The Blood-Clad Cynthiana—that was her nickname in Arland. In the Empire, she was called Cynthiana the One-Hit Slayer.
“CYNTHIANA’S HEREEEEEEE!!”
An old soldier who had survived screamed with all his might, threw down his weapon, and ran toward the Empire. He even tore off his armor while fleeing, not even glancing aside. The young soldiers who saw this seasoned veteran fleeing in terror realized it was the real thing—and they, too, bolted.
Numerical advantage? That meant nothing to Cynthiana. No matter how many troops were gathered, the army would always be crushed. In fact, fleeing from Cynthiana wasn’t even considered shameful in the Empire.
Desertion in the face of the enemy was normally inexcusable. But against Cynthiana, it was impossible to maintain morale. So it was quietly tolerated.
Cynthiana stood still.
She was already dead. Complex thoughts no longer occurred to her. Her soul had long since ascended to the heavens. What remained here was but a residual echo—a lingering will.
The same applied to the others. Their thoughts had stopped at the moment of death. They might show a flicker of emotion when reunited with a dear comrade, but for the most part, they were merely beings of thought.
Alicetia had given vessels to these lingering thoughts—to fulfill their regrets.
“……”
Without a word, Cynthiana pointed at the Imperial Army—and at the emperor’s banner behind them.
The flag still flew. The emperor still lived. She had no thought of helping Alicetia. After all, Cynthiana did not know her.
Then came a triumphant roar from the Arland Army. But it wasn’t a vocal cry—it was a roar of the soul.
Without any formation, the Arlandian soldiers charged like a landslide into the retreating Imperial Army.
“Damn it, don’t run! Just use purification magic—we can cleanse them!”
A young officer shouted. Though the Magic Corps had taken devastating losses, not all magicians were assigned there. Some were stationed with other units for healing and close combat support.
Some of those magicians could use prayer-based purification. But when they tried, one screamed in hysterics.
“It’s no use! I can’t purify them! THAT can’t be purified!!”
Unless one had immense power, forced purification was impossible. And none of the remaining Imperial magicians had that level of ability. Even if a superior cleric were present, they couldn’t purify these souls.
These were essentially malevolent spirits. They cursed the Empire from the depths of their being. They would never accept purification from anything related to the Empire. Even after years of exposure to Arland’s Holy Church purifications, they hadn’t vanished. The only way they could be purified—
—was to exact a fitting punishment upon the Empire themselves.
The charging Arland heroic spirits were impaled on spear walls by some Imperial spearmen who had managed to compose themselves.
“H-Hah! Skewered! So much for being undead, huh?!”
But the impaled Arland soldiers began to move. The Imperial soldiers who had laughed in terror now screamed.
There was only hatred in their eyes. They weren’t looking at the soldiers—they were looking through them. And there was no trace of resignation in their gaze.
The skewered soldiers advanced. Their bodies pierced by spears? That didn’t matter much to bodies without flesh. Well, it did cause magic to leak, but…
Still, they pushed forward. Even while impaled, they swung their swords and killed the spearmen.
They can’t be killed.
That realization swept through the Imperial Army. Technically, they could take damage—but the dead summoned by Heroic Spirit Summoning were not evil beings. Thus, they had resistance to purification, and the only way to defeat them was to deplete the magic maintaining their existence.
However, the Heroic Spirit Summoning ritual included a magic absorption system from the surrounding area. That made it hard to eliminate them through magic attrition.
And this battlefield was soaked with vast amounts of mana, scattered by the exploded magic furnace. If that weren’t the case, the mana depletion would’ve been obvious, and the Empire would have already fallen into greater chaos.
Cynthiana, in particular, monopolized most of the mana used in the summoning. The other soldiers didn’t complain. After all, Cynthiana was the strongest. And her bloodline magic consumed enormous magic.
With crackling sounds, an armor of fighting spirit formed around her.
It was a beast-like armor. Just looking at its silhouette evoked death. This was Cynthiana’s bloodline magic—her magical armament—War God.
Cynthiana moved in an instant to stand before an Imperial soldier. Before he could even raise his weapon, she kicked—and his head flew off.
She didn’t stop. She weaved in a zigzag, dancing through the Imperial ranks, killing one after another in a single blow. As if performing a chore.
“She’s the real thing!”
“Run! Ruuuuuun!!”
Even the few soldiers who had believed she was truly dead lost all morale, and the Imperial Army began to retreat toward the border.
But Cynthiana had no interest in the troops. What she sought was the head of the enemy general. She dashed straight for the Imperial command center.
Why had the Imperial Army crumbled so easily? Certainly, Cynthiana’s presence alone was a nightmare, and her appearance shattered morale.
But the Empire was a hegemon of the continent. Even if the emperor was a fool, the military remained functional thanks to the competence of its officers.
“Don’t panic! Reform the ranks!”
One surviving capable commander barked orders. His troops regained discipline and began to regroup. He understood the battle was lost—but retreating carelessly would only lead to a rout.
The most dangerous part of war is the pursuit. Soldiers who lose morale choose flight over fight and are slaughtered by pursuers. Thus, orderly retreat was essential.
A disciplined rearguard could drastically reduce casualties. Some officers moved to carry this out.
“Hey, mister. You’re an important guy, right?”
Suddenly, the officer noticed a girl standing near his horse.
A chill ran down his spine.
“Y-You…”
“Important people have to die. So, die.”
An Alicetia clone had already infiltrated the Imperial Army using concealment magic.
Their mission was to sow chaos—specifically, to eliminate the competent commanders who maintained order even under desperate conditions. The clone pointed a pistol at the officer and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Seven dry gunshots rang out, drilling the same number of holes into the officer’s body, and he fell from his horse.
“Hurts, doesn’t it? But the Arland soldiers you killed hurt a lot more. They suffered even more.
I’ll make you taste a hundred times that pain. Grit your teeth and watch your pathetic Empire fall into ruin in hell.”
Reloading her magazine, the Alicetia clone finished him off, then vanished again with concealment magic, hunting for her next target.
With this, any hope of restoring morale in the Imperial Army was gone. Worse yet, without commanders, they could no longer mount any organized defense against Cynthiana and the heroic spirits.
And that wasn’t all.
The ground bulged.
“Pwaaah! I’m not even breathing, but fresh air is amazing!”
A force led by another Alicetia clone emerged from the earth—a golem legion.
They had buried themselves underground before the magic furnace exploded, waiting to emerge.
Their numbers had fallen significantly. From an original 37,000 golems, only about 25,000 remained.
But the golems, who never lost morale no matter the damage, were a terrifying force.
“We’ll cut off the retreating Imperial Army! All units, double-time!”
The battle was drawing to a close.
---
Takuto and the others had seen the magic furnace explosion from the plane’s window.
“That massive mana… Did she force the magic furnace into a critical meltdown?” Alicia murmured.
Takuto asked, “Magic… furnace? Like some kind of ancient relic?”
“The princess already has mass production tech for them... No one expected they’d be used in war, though.”
Magic furnaces were treasures in and of themselves. No nation would think to use one like a disposable weapon.
But to Alicetia, they were the perfect substitute for a nuclear bomb.
“Woof!”
While Takuto and the others looked out the window, a dog’s bark came from the speaker.
It seemed this was as far as they could go. The mana storm from the explosion likely made it too dangerous to continue.
They opened the rear hatch. It was standard procedure to exit from here—Arland only had one airstrip, and it was at their base. So they had to parachute out from the back for both arrival and deployment.
“Let’s go.”
“Princess, please no defective equipment this time!”
Takuto and the others wore parachute-substitute armbands known as descent bracelets, loaded aboard the aircraft.
Of course, Alicia knew they hadn’t exactly undergone safety checks.
And so, Takuto and the others leapt from the aircraft.
What do you think about this chapter?
